


In the End I had to Fall

by stormie92



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: All the Kings Horses and all the Kings Men, Ash - Freeform, Ashes, Death, F/M, Heart Break, Heartbreaking, M/M, Multi, Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Rise, dead, fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormie92/pseuds/stormie92
Summary: Instead of Jim threatening Sherlock and making him jump off St. Bart's to save lives, he threatens Mycroft.Does Mycroft jump?Does anyone care?Who is there?All the king's horses and all the king's men  . . . Couldn't put Mycroft together again.





	1. In the End I had to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> "Darling, I forgive you after all.  
> Anything is better than to be alone!  
> And in the end,  
> I guess I had to fall.  
> Always find my place among the ashes"
> 
> Evanescence- Lithium

He stood atop St. Bart's hospital and took a deep breath before pulling his cell phone out his pocket. Slowly finding his brothers number, he hit call. Within seconds Sherlock answered and Mycroft began to speak before his brother could. He looked down at all the people starting to gather. His brother, John, Lestrade . . . You. Mycroft's voice almost cracked as he spoke to Sherlock over the phone.  
“I had to do this, Sherlock. I had to do this for you all. This is it . . . ”  
“This is what, Mycroft?!” Sherlock spoke faster than he normally did and raised his voice. Mycroft could tell Sherlock was worried and that his brothers heart rate was increasing by the tone in his voice.  
“My note . . . that is what normal people do, right? They leave a note. This is mine. Stay where you are. Okay? Do not take your eyes off me. I love you brother mine.”  
"MY-” Sherlock yelled but Mycroft hung up the phone and threw it to the side. He could not bear to hear what his brother would say, or John, or Lestrade or even you if Sherlock had passed the phone. He knew that one of you would try to convince him otherwise . . . one of you would try to stop him and he knew deep down he could not ever let that happen. Why? Because if he did not jump from St. Bart's the whole lot of you would be dead. Snipers were atop other buildings, waiting and watching for the signal from their devious leader Jim Moriarty. 

Mycroft heard the door opening from behind him and out walked Moriarty.  
“Touching call, Mr. Holmes” he laughed as he glanced over at Mycroft's tossed phone. “I LOVE YOU, BROTHER MINE!” he repeated with glee. “HA! I love it. Nice little touch. Now, when are you getting on with it?” He questioned.  
Mycroft glared at the tiny man.  
Moriarty's smile got even wider “Know what I just thought?! You work for the government . . . and you are about . . . “ He made a gesture of falling and splatting to the ground “to fall. All the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put Mycroft Holmes together again!” Moriarty slapped his hands together proudly.  
Mycroft sneered “Out of everything you could have said, you did THAT?”  
“Why of course, now do us all a favor and DO IT” he raised his voice.  
“Why?”  
“Don't play stupid, you know why. If you don't do this your precious baby brother, his boyfriend, your boyfriend and -Your Name- will die. My men will make sure of that.”  
“And what if I kill you?” Mycroft growled.  
“My men will still kill them if you don't jump.”  
Mycroft looked over the edge.  
“You got me too, you know” Moriarty broke the silence as he yanked out a gun from his jacket's pocket. “No one has ever gotten this close to me before. You and brother ruined a lot for me. It is time to pay now.”  
“They will know. Sherlock will find out the truth and rain down a firestorm upon you” Mycroft closed his eyes and tried to block out memories that began to flood through his head. You and him, his brother, Lestrade becoming a friend, and John being there for his brother. “God . . .” he thought “Let John be there for them all”. . .  
“I am sure he will. Which is why I have a little surprise!” Moriarty laughed as he opened his mouth, placed the gun in it and fired. Blood sprayed into the air, his body fell and thumped to the ground, and blood started to create a puddle around his head. Mycroft's pupils dilated as fear struck him. Now there was no one to call off the attacks on his friends and family. He had to do it . . . and he had to do it now. Time was surely running out. 

Mycroft whispered “I love you . . . all of you” under his breath and climbed back onto the edge. He was glad to see that all of you stood still . . . He saw Lestrade on the phone calling for backup, probably. He saw Sherlock with terror in his eyes. John holding his breath. And you . . . crying. Mycroft held his head high and fought back tears. He inhaled a copious amount of air . . . exhaled . . . and jumped. His arms spread as though he expected to fly and his legs went in every which direction hoping to make contact with solid ground, like nothing ever happened. Instead . . . a crack echoed as his skull made contact with the solid ground. Crimson blood oozed out and started to trace his head. 

He didn't move . . . and he didn't breathe . . . seconds turned into minutes and he just stayed there. It wasn't fake. It wasn't a game. It was reality. 

Mycroft Holmes . . .

was dead.


	2. Among the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's funeral happens. Sherlock comes over with some unsettling news.

“Mycroft!” Were the last words you remember hearing before falling down and gasping for air. You quickly glanced around. Sherlock stood frozen in place, eyes wide. John and Lestrade ran as fast as they could to the motionless Mycroft as their adrenaline kicked in. And you? You fell too. Panic, disbelief and knowledge of what to do next left you. You just cried on the ground and cried even harder when you felt Sherlock's hand rest upon your shoulder. Lestrade picked up his phone and yelled into the receiver to “get here bloody quick! I called you already . . this is . . Just get here!”  
John's medical skills kicked in and he began to examine Mycroft but he knew to no avail. He looked up at Lestrade and shook his eyes. Lestrade tried his best but tears started to form in his eyes at the loss of his friend. He turned to see what Sherlock was doing and saw that Sherlock's hand rested on you. Their eyes met and Sherlock turned to leave. Lestrade was in horrific shock and he ran as fast as he could to catch up to Sherlock. “What the hell do you think you are doing?! Your brother is dead. . . and you are leaving? Listen, I know you have this whole persona of not caring and what not, but. . .”  
“Not now, not real . . . thinking” Sherlock walked off. Lestrade turned around and walked towards you.  
“-Your Name-, come with me. You do not need to see any of this.”  
Finally you snapped out of it and stood up with the help of Lestrade. “I should be here?” You spoke finally.  
“Mycroft would not want you here.” He protested and you knew it would be of no use to argue. You didn't even feel like arguing. Quickly, you glanced at John who gave an approving nod and you nodded back. You would go with Lestrade and leave the scene while the cops and EMTS would go to work taking care of Mycroft and the scene. As you started to walk you felt ill and grabbed onto Lestrade who held you and helped you walk to his car. He got into the drivers seat and opened his mouth, nothing came out. You started to sob, extremely hard, as you wondered why Mycroft would do this to you and his family. “Why?” you muttered under your breath and continued to cry. 

Lestrade drove you back to the home you shared with Mycroft. “Listen . . . are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want.”  
“No . . . I would prefer to be alone right now. If I need you, I will call. Thank you for the ride.” You sniffled as you got out of the car, walked to the door and unlocked it, entering as fast as you could. You slammed the door and rested your back against it as you slid down to the floor, breaking into tears again. You brought your hands to your face and covered your eyes hoping to hold back tears. “WHY?” you yelled into the empty house and listened for a reply. You thought that maybe it could all be a joke. Or a very bad dream. A hallucination. You waited and waited for a reply, hoping and praying that Mycroft would answer back and come running down the stairs asking why you were crying. It was not meant to be, however. Mycroft did not run down the stairs. It was not a dream. Or a hallucination. It was actually real. And you were absolutely and dreadfully alone. 

Mycroft's funeral was dreary. The weather was cold and the skies were grey. It wanted to rain but even the skies held back tears. Hardly anyone came to the funeral because of how Mycroft kept to himself. Those who did come hardly shed any tears except for you. You were a mess, and if it had not been for John and Lestrade, you would have been an even bigger mess. Your heart, already broken in two the day he died, started to break into tiny little pieces. It felt like a glass vase that had been shattered. Your one true love was being laid to rest. Words were spoken. Your tears were shed. Everyone left and it was just you at the grave site. Finally the sky opened up, it was like a thousand angels felt your pain and they too began to cry. You looked around to make sure everyone was gone before you started to speak. “Mycroft . . . please. Do this one thing for me . . . don't be dead.” 

Days later and you were still alone. Truth be told, you could have had John or Lestrade over to check on you, but you insisted to be alone. You wanted to be like Sherlock. Or like Mycroft before the two of you met. Alone. Once you heard Sherlock tell John “Alone is what I have; alone protects me”. And now, right now, you knew why Sherlock felt that way. “God . . .” you whispered to yourself as you walked into the kitchen and looked at Mycroft's empty spot “when does this pain go? When does it get easier?” You walked over to his spot, pulled the chair out and sat down. Sighing, you took a drink of tea and sat the cup back down. “What do I do?” you asked just as you heard a knock at the door. “Great . . .” you stood up, walked to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Sherlock and John. You opened the door, greeted them and let them inside. “May I make you two a hot cuppa?”  
“That would be lovely” John replied. Sherlock waltzed in like he owned the place and walked to the table where you were just sitting.  
“I have news, -your name-” he finally said as he observed the table.  
“Not now, Sherlock” John nudged Sherlock. You started the tea as you watched John and Sherlock bicker.  
“If not now, then when?” He sneered. You rolled your eyes and broke up the tiny little fight before it could escalate.  
“What is this news, Sherlock?”  
“AH, someone wants to hear what I have to say. Look at the John. She is curious.”  
“Sherlock!” John replied with anger.  
“Ignore John, he thinks I am overreacting, seeing things and believing in something that is not really there. I know, for a fact, that I am correct. -Your name-, Mycroft Holmes is alive” Sherlock said with a gigantic smile as he went into a rant about what he found out and why he believed what he did. You felt your shattered heart sink as you started to feel ill.  
“What do you mean he is alive? We saw him JUMP. We heard his skull and bones crack. We saw the blood . . . we heard the reports of the autopsy, Sherlock. You, John, Greg and myself were at his funeral. He was buried a few days ago! How the HELL can you stand there with a smile on your face and tell me he isn't dead? That he is alive? If he was ALIVE wouldn't he have came home by now? Or got in touch somehow? Maybe say to someone that it was all a sick joke? No, Sherlock. He is gone. Dead. Buried six feet under ground. Body rotting. Worms eating away at his skull. He is never coming back, you hear?” You yelled as loud as you possibly could at the younger Holmes. John looked away and Sherlock just stared at you. It remained quiet for a few minutes until John broke the silence.  
“I told you, Sherlock. She basically said what I did. . . I am so sorry for all of this” he apologized and walked towards you. Sherlock remained frozen. “Listen, you know how Sherlock can be. He believes that he found solid clues that Mycroft is alive. He won't tell me how or what or why, except for what he just told you, but he believes for a fact that Mycroft is somewhere. I told him that this was very inappropriate time to come over but he is Sherlock. His timing is never right.”  
“And what do you believe, John?” Tears started to run down your face. John wiped away a couple tears and half smiled. 

“I believe in Sherlock Holmes . . . and I believe in Mycroft Holmes too.”


End file.
